


A Feast Of Friends

by spideyboy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Will Graham, Hallucinations, Post-Episode: s02e05 Mukozuke, Slightly - Freeform, The Doors references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 09:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideyboy/pseuds/spideyboy
Summary: "Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders, smooth as raven's claws."-In which Will Graham, at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, thinks (and hallucinates) about death. Based on the song A Feast Of Friends, by Jim Morrison (The Doors).
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18





	A Feast Of Friends

**Author's Note:**

> hey! this is my first hannibal fanfic. i rewatched the show during vacation and got obsessed over beverly quoting jim morrison and will getting the reference. i hope you like it!
> 
> the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9r_2faClbBc

Will Graham stares at the ceiling of his cell at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

He doesn’t say anything. Rather, Will prefers to remain as quiet as humanly possible, considering Chilton keeps on checking the recordings as if it was his favorite soap opera. Maybe it was. Will knows the doctor preferes the cheesy ones, those that only old ladies would watch. Mexican or Spanish, Chilton is not sure yet which he likes more.

Though the thought is funny, _it really is_ , Will can’t bring himself to smile. Or to feel anything but a ghostly touch of emotion. As if something should be there, something _should_ be happening inside his brain, but it doesn’t, and it never comes.

“Come on, it _is_ funny,” Beverly Katz says, sitting on the small sink across his cell. She is wearing the same clothes from the last time Will saw her: black pants, black T-shirt, boots, a maroon jacket.

Will glares her.

She sighs. “You look like a lost puppy. You’re allowed to enjoy the joke a little, you know.”

“A lost puppy?”, he repeats, suddenly very self-aware. Will opens and closes his fists so to know whether it is real or not.

Though he doesn’t need to check, as Hannibal Lecter is not around him anymore. Will’s mind feels like anger, but it is not, at the same time; something inside him boils every time he remembers Hannibal Lecter and everything he is being accused of. And it sticks on him, just like caramel, and it feels... unpleasant, mainly because there is nothing Will can do, given the circumstances. It feels like hate, it _should_ be hate.

But Will is aware it is not hate, for hate he knows as a heartburn. This tastes like Jägermeister. Or some other drink just as expensive and bitter. And Will is going to make sure he will not waste not even a drop, savoring it slow and nice as it deserves.

“I want roses in my garden bower, dig?”, Beverly says in a distracted manner, checking her nails. “Royal babies, rubies, must now replace aborted strangers in the mud. These mutants, blood-meal, for the plant that's plowed.”

He frowns at her and all of a sudden memories about mushrooms and other fungi being created and surviving and feeding on the corpses that were not as dead as they should be flood his mind, and Beverly is laying down in front of him, on the floor of his cell, with mushrooms growing from her eyes, mouth, ears, liquid slowly dripping off her dead body.

Will stares.

Beverly turns her head towards him and says, with her vocal cords twisted and wrong, “They are waiting to take us into the severed garden...”

And an elk’s foot crushes her head, spilling all the liquid and its insides, bones cracking and tearing skin apart. Yellow, white, red, carnation, blossoming like a grotesque and flawless painting on the ground.

Will stares at it. Then his eyes go to the Raven Stag.

The Raven Stag stares back at him.

Hannibal Lecter appears behind it and walks towards Will. Impeccable and with a smirk peeking from his expression- in a way that if he was not Will Graham, he would not notice. Just as he remembers.

Will stares at him as Hannibal Lecter approaches and places both his hands on his shoulders for a moment. And the Raven Stag makes no movement.

“Do you know how pale and wanton thrillful comes Death on a strange hour?”, Hannibal Lecter asks, his left hand touching Will’s face as a delicate precious object in his expensive collection- and maybe Will Graham really is. “Unannounced, unplanned for, like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed?”

Will analyzes those eyes that have kept him awake so, _so_ many times in this prison cell at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Those eyes that look like honey and blood and fangs.

“Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders, smooth as raven's claws,” Will says, a ghost of a smile playing on the corner of his mouth.

Hannibal Lecter, _is he?_ , copies his expression. “No more money, no more fancy dress. This other kingdom seems by far the best, until its other jaw reveals incest and loose obedience to a vegetable law.”

And Hannibal Lecter grabs Will’s hair and pulls, exposing his neck. Will shivers against his teeth, but Hannibal Lecter pays no mind to it as he murmurs against the skin, “I will not go. I prefer a feast of friends to the Giant Family.”

Suddenly he needs air and the whole room is shaking. And as soon as he tries gathering his breath, Hannibal Lecter, the Raven Stag and Beverly Katz are gone.

Will is still a little breathless as he thinks of the way imaginary Hannibal Lecter pulled his hair, and asks himself if he would pull a knife to his throat or bite it until there would be no more flesh on it. Both possible, he concludes.

That night, Will Graham dreams of eating Hannibal Lecter’s heart and belly and he is oddly contempt when he remembers it, instead of, as usual, feeling dizzy.

Will asks himself when he would have a little fun again, since messing with Chilton is getting boring.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are always appreciated!


End file.
